


Know Just How You'd Smile

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Future Fic, Get Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt "Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles, twitch" and then it just kind of exploded with feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Just How You'd Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of loss, death and grief if that bothers you.
> 
> Otherwise, I don't even know.
> 
> Title from The Gaslight Anthem - 1930.

Stiles has twitches and Derek notices them all. He hates that he notices them. The main ones appear when when Stiles gets nervous, and Stiles hasn't been nervous around Derek for a while. The worst ones are the twitches Stiles gets when he thinks about his mother. Derek can always smell the sadness on him, and he's noticed the way Stiles has been folding in on himself as the days have gone by. It's coming up to the anniversary again, but in the past few years that Derek has known him, Stiles has never acted like this. Derek has never felt this overwhelming sadness wafting from Stiles before. He's noticed Stiles spending more time with his father, and he knows it's because Stiles is unconsciously clinging to the one family member he has left.

Derek knows that feeling, remembers that after the fire he didn't want to leave Laura's side, that it took him months to feel okay being left alone. He remembers that after Laura was killed and he came back to Beacon Hills, he let the anger and lust for revenge take him over. Let it replace the emptiness that the grief and aching loss left him with. Derek's seen the way Stiles has been digging his fingernails into his arm, how he's been hunching his shoulders and slumping down whenever he thinks no one is watching. He's still smart mouthed, still Stiles, but his laughter doesn't meet his eyes and he's far more short tempered than he usually is. Scott has been treating Stiles with kid gloves, unusually sensitive for someone as dense as Scott. But each time Scott treats Stiles like that, Derek can sense the frustration coming off him, sees the way Stiles worries his bottom lip like he's trying to contain an outburst. The frustration that comes off Stiles is so obvious, Derek can't believe how blind Scott is to it.

For all that Stiles still teases Derek of being a sour wolf, he seems totally unaware of how much he helped Derek get back in the world. Laura always told Derek it wasn't healthy for him to keep to himself, not socialise with humans. He just couldn't help it after Kate. Knowing that his weakness with a human had caused the death of his family, his pack, Derek couldn't see what good would come from mixing with humans. But somehow taking on Scott, teaching him not to get killed by hunters or by falling down a hole, meant taking on Stiles as well. Laura would've laughed at him, hysterically and often. Being forced into associating, working, with humans, Derek can almost see her face crinkled in laughter.

It still hurts to think of her. It's worse than how he felt after the fire because at least after that he still had Laura. After she died, he had nothing. No pack, no family. Now he has more people than he knows what to do with. Derek is well aware that he'd been a sub par alpha and, if he wasn't, there had been a lot of people around who kept telling him how he was screwing up. Deaton told him he needed to learn to trust, as if it was that easy. As if the last time he'd trusted someone outside of his pack, he hadn't gotten them all killed.

Derek had tried, he had to, he'd been so tired fighting everything himself. If he hadn't trusted others, he would most likely be dead by now. He got there eventually because there were only so many times you could find yourself fighting alongside people before you ended up trusting them. Laura would tease him mercilessly if she knew how much Derek trusts a human. Derek doesn't even understand it himself most of the time, but he's learnt to trust his instincts and he trusts Stiles. Trusts him more than Scott, at least Derek can be sure Stiles won't betray the pack to impress Allison.

Derek remembers when Stiles' mother died. It's in bits and pieces, he was only a kid himself, he remembers his mom talking about “that poor Stilinski boy” and her eyes had been wet. Derek remembers hugging his mom extra hard before going to bed, aware that there was a boy younger than him who wouldn't get to do that again.

The day before the anniversary, Stiles turns up at the Hale house. He almost knocks on the door, but stops. Derek hears the faint tap of knuckles against wood where Stiles rests his fist against the door. When he opens the door, he sees Stiles has gone back down the steps and is just standing there. Derek doesn't say anything, but he can tell Stiles knows he's here by the way he pulls his hoodie tighter and scuffs his foot in the dirt, like he's nervous, like he doesn't know what to say. Derek doesn't think he's ever really seen Stiles lost for words. Stiles isn't looking up at him, his eyes are firmly fixed on the floor where his foot kicks the dirt around. Derek isn't sure what Stiles wants from him. He can smell the anxiety on him and Stiles looks like he wants to run. Derek sits on the steps and watches Stiles for a moment longer. He can see Stiles clench and unclench his fists in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Stiles.”

Stiles looks up and nods, his eyes darting around the place. “I, uh, yeah. Is anyone else here?”

“Just me.”

“Okay. Okay. You've got a coffee maker now, right? Yeah, of course you do, I was there when you bought it. Sorry.”

Derek frowns and stands up, his hand itching to reach out and drag Stiles into the house just to get him to stop twitching. The only reason Derek resists is that he can't be sure Stiles wouldn't just capitulate without a fight and that would be wrong. Stiles has always fought back, even just with words. Derek can see Stiles start to kick his foot back and forth again and shakes his head before coming down the stairs to touch Stiles' arm. Stiles looks up and forces a tight smile that makes Derek's chest ache in a way it hasn't for years. He inclines his head towards the door and waits for Stiles to move, glaring at him until Stiles huffs and walks into the house.

Derek heads straight for the kitchen. After Lydia discovered how the pack had been living she'd rail-roaded Derek into letting her look at the place. Derek had been reluctant to let anyone touch the house, he knew it was falling down, knew it wasn't fit for living, but it hurt to change things. It was a burnt out shell to most people, but he could still see images in his head of his dad cooking breakfast on Sunday mornings, of Laura attempting to skip doing her homework, of his mom curled up in an armchair reading a book. He didn't want to lose that. Eventually the combined efforts of his teenaged pack wore him down. Made him see that living in a “house that Freddie Kruger would run from” as Stiles had put it, wasn't ever going to be a place for his new pack to flourish.

Stiles is shuffling around behind him, fingers tracing objects, tapping against the books, it's another set of twitches Derek has catalogued in his head. Derek takes the mugs out of the cabinet and pours the coffee, carrying them into the living room. Stiles follows him and kicks off his Converse before he curls up in a corner of a sofa, hands wrapped around the mug as if it's the middle of winter. Derek sits cautiously at the other end of the same sofa, he doesn't want to crowd Stiles, but to sit too far away from him when he can sense how vulnerable Stiles is seems wrong. Stiles takes a long drink of his coffee and stretches his legs out along the sofa, his toes absent-mindedly tapping against Derek's thigh.

“It doesn't get easier, does it?”

“No.”

“That sucks,” Stiles says with a sigh, looking into his mug. “It's unfair. Like, you go through the pain of losing someone and it hurts, it hurts so much and it never gets easier. Not even a little bit. It keeps hurting, all the time. It wasn't this hard when I was a kid, you know? I missed my mom, but I didn't feel like this,” Stiles looks across at Derek. “I want to talk to her and have her answer me. She knew everything and I know that's because I was a kid and moms know everything when you're a kid but.”

“Stiles,” Derek rests a hand on Stiles' leg to stop it tapping. “You don't have to explain yourself.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Stiles ducks his head. “It feels worse this year. Having to make college decisions, leaving Beacon Hills, leaving you...I just. I wish I could talk to her.”

“Do you know how many times I've wished my mom was still around since I became the alpha?” Derek sighs. “This wasn't meant to be me. No one taught me how to be an alpha.”

“Dude, we're all aware of that.”

Derek smacks Stiles' leg lightly. “Asshole. There's never going to a moment where your life changes and you don't want to talk to your mom.”

“Never?” Stiles asks in a small voice.

Derek shakes his head. “Sorry. It's tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Dad and I we -” Stiles clears his throat. “We usually go and visit her together, but he'll be working when I get out of class, so I guess we're going at different times. We haven't really talked about it.”

As Derek takes that in, he realises what Stiles isn't saying. He knows that the Sheriff had to work hard to get his job back, to gain the trust of the town back, and that Stiles still feels guilty about how his dad lost his job in the first place. Enough that Stiles would never ask his dad to change his hours for this, even though Derek can feel how much Stiles wants his dad to be there with him. He's sure the Sheriff would do it if Stiles asked him to, Derek is also sure that Stiles carries too much guilt to do that.

Stiles puts his coffee mug on the table Derek and Boyd built and runs a hand over his head before sinking back into the sofa, almost lying down, pushing his legs on to Derek's lap. “Can I hang here for a while? Dad's working and, okay, I could occupy myself with the internet and creepy supernatural research but -”

“You can stay, Stiles. Why do you ask? You're pack, you can always stay.” Derek watches as a flush spreads up Stiles' neck before he looks down and realises he's gripping Stiles' thigh. His mouth twitches a little before he makes to move his hand back.

Stiles sits up and puts his hand on top of Derek's. “No, it's – I don't mind. You can sense that right? You'd know if I was lying.”

Derek nods, his mouth feels oddly dry and he can feel Stiles' leg start to twitch again underneath his hand. “Yeah, I'd know.”

“And?” Stiles withdraws his hand and looks at him expectantly.

“You're not lying. You're,” Derek pauses for a moment and his eyes narrow. “Really? Stiles. Still?”

Stiles huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “You knew? Of course you knew, what am I talking about? Werewolf, right? You probably smelt it on me all the time. Ugh, I don't even want to know what that smelt like. You thought I'd get over it? Get over you? Not so much. Pathetic teenage crush on a werewolf still going strong.” He lapses into silence but doesn't pull his leg away from Derek's touch.

Derek watches him. Stiles isn't wrong, he'd known about the crush, couldn't avoid it. Each time he touched Stiles, Derek could smell his reaction. About six months ago, he'd stopped smelling it as much. There had been moments here and there, but Derek just thought they were remnants, that Stiles had moved on. Now, seeing Stiles here in his home, Derek realises he was wrong, he was so wrong. He'd stopped being aware because it wasn't a strange smell to him. It was familiar. It was like home in a way that Derek hadn't even realised. Somehow, Stiles had wormed his way into Derek's life and Derek hadn't even noticed what that meant. Worse, he liked it. A lot. When Derek had first sensed Stiles' crush, he'd pushed it away, ignored it because that was what he had to do. Whatever Stiles had been feeling back then, Derek couldn't give in. Stiles had been young, as young as Derek had been when Kate – Derek wasn't ever going to be that person. Not ever.

Stiles taps the heel of his foot against Derek's thigh. “You want me to go? Is this, did I make you uncomfortable? I can go, if you want, I don't mind. It's fine, really. I should go.”

Derek watches Stiles get up from the sofa and it takes him a moment, but his brain finally gets in gear. He grabs Stiles' arm. “Don't go. Stay,” he waits a moment before he drops his grip on Stiles' arm. “If you want to.”

“Yeah, yes, I want to. I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable, not that I could, you're you.” Stiles sits back on the soda, closer to Derek than before.

Derek sees Stiles' leg start to bounce again and he can't help but put his hand back on his thigh and notices how Stiles instantly stills at the touch. “You didn't make me uncomfortable.”

“Good. Okay.”

“Stiles,” Derek takes a breath. “Is it really just a crush?”

“What are you -” Stiles turns his head and looks at Derek, his face close.

“You don't smell like it's just a crush. You smell -”

“Okay! Enough with the smelling.”

“I didn't mean to,” Derek sighs. “I'm sorry.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, okay, you can't help it. I know that by now. Werewolfy senses and all that. Is it a problem? Should I not be around you?”

Derek stares at him in disbelief. “How can you think that?”

“Dude, I don't know what this means. For years, all I really wanted was Lydia, and I knew I'd never get her and that was okay. It was safe. And then Scott gets bitten and you cannonball into my life, which gets filled with all sorts of weird shit. Then, one day, I realise that oh, the werewolf I keep trading death threats with, actually I find him mindblowingly hot. I could deal with that, it was just a crush, it wasn't meant to turn in to -” Stiles breaks off for a moment. “And then I realise this is probably the last year I'll be in Beacon Hills for the anniversary of my mom's death for a while and that hits me. It hits me that I'll be leaving her, and my dad, and you and for some reason that last one hurts more than I realise and, fuck, Derek, stop me talking, please.”

Derek puts an arm around Stiles and pulls him against his side. He sits back and gently drags Stiles with him until Derek is laying on the sofa with Stiles resting on him, his head pillowed on Derek's chest. Derek feels Stiles' fists clenching, his legs shaking and he runs a hand up and down Stiles' back like he remembers his mom doing for him the day after the full moon. Derek whispers nonsense words until he feels Stiles start to relax, until he hears his heart rate come down.

“This is weird.”

Derek hears Stiles mumble into his chest and smiles a little. “Is it?” He asks.

“It's weird how it's not weird,” Stiles cranes his neck to look at Derek. “It's not weird, right? Oh God, why is it not weird?” Stiles buries his head in Derek's chest as Derek laughs.

“Stiles. Breathe,” Derek rests a hand between Stiles' shoulder blades. “Werewolves are tactile, you know that. Calm down.”

“I don't join in with your puppy piles, Derek.”

“But you're pack. You know what it is to want to touch the people you care about. Stiles, you're the only one who hugs Erica when she's in a mood to tear people's throats out and you're worried about this being weird?”

“I don't want to see Erica naked. Well, in a shallow way, I'm still a teenager and, really, your betas are hot, but not in the way I want to see you naked. Uh.”

Derek's silent for a while, one hand still resting on Stiles' back, the other gently holding Stiles' hand. The fierce burst of jealously he feels at the idea of Stiles wanting to see anyone else naked is a shock. Derek isn't unaware of his feelings for Stiles but he'd spent a long time burying them. Had to because Stiles was too young, underage and Derek couldn't go there. But Stiles is eighteen now and Derek is sick of lying to himself. He's watched some of his betas pair off, wondering if they realise what a chance they're taking so young, and he's carried this weight in his stomach that he's been trying to ignore.

Despite wanting, Derek can't help but feel that acting on this would be stifling Stiles before he's ever had the chance to experience life outside of Beacon Hills, away from Derek and the pack. There's a voice in his head telling him that if he really cares for Stiles, he'll let him leave to experience new things.

“I know you're awake.” Stiles mumbles.

“What do you want from me Stiles?”

“That's a really stupid question.”

Derek laughs softly. “Aside from that.”

Stiles sits up, his knees on either side of Derek's chest, looking down at him. “Don't do that. Don't put this all on me, Derek. You haven't shut me down here and we both know there's a reason for that. Maybe you ignored it before because I was too young, or you thought I wasn't serious, I don't know, but I'm here now and we're talking about this and I refuse to be the only one doing this.”

Derek could throw Stiles off him and Stiles knows that. It's one of the reasons why Derek doesn't do it. The other reason is why he still has one hand locked with Stiles' hand and why he doesn't resist when Stiles takes his other hand and laces their fingers together. Derek sighs and looks up at the ceiling. There's pepperoni on the ceiling and he makes a mental note to growl at Jackson for that. “You're not the only one doing this.”

“And that's nice, but could you say it to my face and not the ceiling?”

Derek meets Stiles eyes, sees the set of his jaw and resigns himself to his fate. “You're not the only one doing this. But, you're still only eighteen. Legal or not, you've got a lot of living to do -”

“Oh man, shut up. Can you not trust that I made this decision a long time ago? That, yes, okay, I may go somewhere else for college, but I'll always want to be back here?”

“You can't know that.” Derek says. He's on the verge of tearing his hands away from Stiles and telling him to leave because the stubborn little shit is not getting it.

“You could trust me. You think I want to leave my dad? He'll be three weeks away from a heart attack if I go across the country. I can't promise that I'll never be more than thirty minutes away from you, but I can promise that Beacon Hills is my home and I'll always want to be here.”

Derek sighs and tugs at Stiles' hands until he realises what Derek wants and shifts so he's laying back down on Derek. Derek doesn't have a response for Stiles. He wants this, more than he can put into words, but he hates the idea of holding Stiles back from life. Derek lets go of Stiles' hands and brings his arms up, tucking one hand on Stiles' neck holding him steady as Stiles pushes his face into Derek's neck.

“Can I ask you something?”

Derek holds his body still, stopping it from shivering as Stiles' lips brush against his neck. “Since when do you ask? You know what the answer is.”

“What would Laura say about this?”

The question throws Derek. He's really not sure what Laura would think about this. She'd laugh, because Stiles is human, but she would've sat with Derek and talked it out. He really misses her. “I don't know.”

“I think she'd want you to be happy. She'd say that you've spent the last few years battling the forces of evil -”

“Forces of evil?”

“Shush, it's a Buffy thing. Which you would understand if you ever joined us for Buffy nights. Socialise, Derek. Anyway, she'd say that, and she'd say that you've spent so long in a moody, growly, brooding funk that you've forgotten what it feels like to have something that makes you happy.”

“It's funny how you think my sister would say the exact thing you want to hear.”

“I happen to think your sister and I would've agreed on a lot of things.”

Derek's mouth quirks, a small smile on his face. “Yeah. You probably would've.”

“She thought you were a self sacrificing idiot as well?”

“For someone who allegedly wants to get me naked, you have a very strange way of showing it.”

“Was that a joke? You know it scares me when you make jokes.”

Derek breathes deeply and closes his eyes. “Shut up Stiles.”

Derek feels Stiles smile against his neck. He listens to the quickening of Stiles' heartbeat as Derek slips a hand underneath Stiles' hoodie and tshirt, splaying his fingers across the warm skin. Stiles stills for a moment before he lets out a sigh and fists his hand in the shoulder of Derek's tshirt. It's the last thing Derek notices before he falls asleep.

–

The rumble of a car wakes Derek up, it's dark outside and Stiles is still asleep on top of him, mouth open against Derek's throat. Derek thinks maybe he should wake Stiles, he senses Erica and Isaac coming closer and worries about how Stiles will feel if they find him like this, but Derek is too damn content to care. The door opens, Erica and Isaac come striding in, shopping bags clutched in their hands. They're laughing and talking until they spot the sofa and they stop dead, grins on their faces. Derek suppresses a groan, reflexively tightens his grip on Stiles' waist and glares at them. Erica makes a show of zipping her lips and she runs off to her room, Derek can see her pull her phone out as she goes and knows it's just a matter of minutes before Lydia knows about this. Isaac just nods in a way that suggests he's not surprised and heads into the kitchen, mouthing 'dinner' as he goes.

Derek runs a hand over Stiles' head, scratching gently. Stiles makes a humming noise as Derek's fingers reach the nape of his neck. “Stiles, wake up. Come on.”

“M'comfy,” Stiles mutters. “Don't wanna.”

“I'm being nice. I could just stand up and let you drop to the floor.”

Stiles opens his eyes and yawns. “Threats to wake me up. Is this what I can expect from now on? Because, I've got to tell you, it's been a long time since I was scared of you, these really aren't going to work.”

“You're awake, aren't you?” Derek smirks as Stiles crawls around and sits up.

“One time thing,” Stiles looks around. “Hey, where did the bags come from?”

“Erica and Isaac may have come home.”

“Oh. And they. Huh. Okay then,” Stiles glances at Derek. “Unless you're not okay? Did we discuss this? I need coffee. Are we okay? I can't remember.”

“We're okay, Stiles. No more coffee, Isaac's making dinner.”

“Am I staying for dinner?”

Derek rolls his eyes and stands up, hauling Stiles up next to him. Stiles stumbles a little before Derek catches his arm, pulling him close. “Yes, you're staying.” He watches Stiles' tongue dart out and wet his lips, Stiles' eyes widening as if he's realising what Derek isn't saying.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Derek repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“So okay,” Stiles grins. “So very okay. So okay I could start singing about it.”

“Please don't.”

“Why? Can you think of something better for me to do with my mo-”

Derek catches Stiles' mouth with his and pushes against Stiles until he's backed into a wall, Stiles pushes back and twists his fingers through Derek's hair as he licks into Derek's mouth. Derek groans and brings a hand up to Stiles' neck, holding him in place as he nips at Stiles' bottom lip before moving down to the side of his neck. He sucks a mark there and feels Stiles shiver against him, words tumbling out of Stiles' mouth. Derek bites a little, not enough to break the skin, hears Stiles swearing above him, feels Stiles' fist tugging at his hair. He pulls back and nuzzles against Stiles' throat for a moment before straightening up, pressing his body against Stiles. Stiles runs his hands underneath Derek's tshirt, pulling Derek closer and traces patterns on his back, making Derek shiver and slump down, his head resting on Stiles' shoulder, one leg wedged between Stiles' legs.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles bites out. “Unless you want me to come in my pants and, really, my only objection to that is that I'd have to sit through dinner and it would be very uncomfortable – but, seriously, you keep your leg pressed there and that'll be academic -”

“You really don't shut up, do you?” Derek mumbles into Stiles' shoulder before stepping back, hands still on Stiles, finding places to touch him.

“You like it,” Stiles grins, before he steps closer and kisses Derek. “I know you like it.”

“We all know Derek likes it,” Isaac calls from the kitchen. “And thank you both for stopping before it got really awkward.”

Derek shakes his head at the look on Stiles' face. He lowers his voice and whispers in Stiles' ear. “Werewolves, remember.”

“Ugh, they can smell me, can't they? What are they smelling? Wait, don't answer that, I'm fine not knowing. So gross.”

“It's not gross,” Derek says as he moves in. He licks a stripe down Stiles' jaw before inhaling deeply. “It's you.”

“That might be, uh, the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

Derek grins and pushes Stiles gently back against the wall before he buries his head in Stiles' neck. Stiles sighs and rests his hands on Derek's hips, taps out a rhythm as Derek explores his neck. Time seems to slow for Derek as he gets lost in Stiles' scent. Having the freedom to do this is intoxicating and he feels like he could do this forever.

“Uh. Guys?” Isaac's voice is close, closer than it should be.

Derek looks up to see him a few steps away and he can't believe Isaac got this close without him noticing. “Yes?”

“Dinner's ready. Boyd's working late at the rink. I'll, uh, go and get the plates down. Come in when you're ready.”

Stiles is gently resting a hand against the back of Derek's neck and he whines unhappily when Derek straightens up. Derek gives in and drops a quick kiss on Stiles' lips before stepping back. “Food, come on.”

When they walk into the kitchen, Erica and Isaac are already there, exchanging grins as they watch Derek and Stiles. Derek sends warning glares at them both before sitting down, tangling his leg with Stiles' ankle underneath the table. Stiles reaches for the spaghetti and shoots a small smile at Derek as he fills his plate. Derek ducks his head and enjoys the warm feeling in his stomach that has nothing to do with the meal.

After dinner, Isaac and Erica agree to wash up. Derek looks at them suspiciously, in all the time they've lived here, neither of them have ever volunteered to do chores. Stiles just takes it at face value and pulls Derek out of the kitchen, calling his thanks as they go. Derek can hear Erica suppressing her laughter as he follows Stiles up the stairs.

“Wait,” Derek pauses in the hallway. “Where are we going?”

Stiles looks at him in disbelief. “Really, dude? I'm so not making out with you on the sofa, and I can't even believe I just used the phrase 'making out' un-ironically ugh, but whatever we're doing, we're not doing it on that sofa where your baby wolves can wrinkle their noses and know what we're doing and feeling and, how did I not realise how creepy your wolf powers are until now? Man.”

“So you want to go to my bedroom?”

“Yes, what, do I have to do everything around here? I'm not saying I necessarily want to use your bedroom for, you know, bedroom things, right now anyway, but,” Stiles sighs. “Can we just go there now, please?”

Derek grins. “Yeah, come on.” He tangles his fingers with Stiles' and pulls him along the corridor.

Stiles pushes the door open and crawls onto the bed. Derek shakes his head, amused by Stiles' shamelessness and takes a moment to kick off his boots before he joins Stiles, lying on his side next to him. He runs a hand under Stiles' tshirt and tracks his reactions to the touch, enjoying the way Stiles' breath stutters, the way Derek can hear his heart start to race. Derek leans over and presses his lips against Stiles, smiling as Stiles opens his mouth almost immediately. Stiles' hands come up to grip Derek's shoulders, if they could leave bruises, Derek would relish it. He moves to grab Stiles by the hips and pulls him closer, covering Stiles' body with his own. Stiles groans as Derek pushes against him and Derek pulls his head back a little.

“Stiles, hey.”

“What?” Stiles looks up at him.

“Let's take a minute here,” Derek rolls off Stiles and looks over at him. “You said you didn't want to -”

“Yeah, okay. I'm good. Can I just.” Stiles curls himself around Derek, his head seeking out the spot under Derek's chin to rest.

Derek wraps an arm around him and sighs. “Sure?”

“Dude, I'm used to not getting laid by now, it's pretty much part of my every day life. I'm taking a leap here and assuming that it will happen at some point with you, so I'm fine with waiting. I'll probably go home and jerk off, a lot, but -”

“Stiles,” Derek groans “You can't just say that.”

“Did I offend your werewolf sensibilities? I figured with the whole ripping innocent rabbits to shreds every now and then, you weren't that delicate, but okay, my bad.”

Derek huffs. “I'm not delicate – I don't eat rabbits, Stiles. Just. Stop talking about jerking off.”

“Uh huh. Okay. Fine.”

Stiles settles into silence and Derek listens to the relaxed beat of Stiles' heart. Stiles isn't twitching at all and Derek likes that he can have this effect on him, likes that he can calm him down. They lay there for a while, Derek can't help his mind from racing, going over the events of the day. There's a part of him that thinks that Stiles can't understand how much Derek needs him. Stiles has always been the person to call Derek out when his plans suck, the person who stops him going off the rails when everything starts to fall apart. Derek loves Stiles for that and he knows, from all of Stiles' self deprecating remarks, that Stiles has no idea how Derek doesn't just consider him pack, but considers him his equal.

“Derek?”

“Yep?”

“Can you come with me tomorrow? Not to the grave, just be there afterwards? If you don't want to, I totally understand, a day trip to the cemetery isn't a fun day out, but with dad not able to be there, I kind of,” Stiles sighs. “I just feel like I need someone there.”

“Stiles, you don't need to ask. You want me there, I'll be there.”

“Oh. Hey, what's the time?”

Derek reaches a hand out to the bedside table and turns the clock. “Almost ten.”

“Huh. Time flies when you're making grumpy werewolves confess to feelings,” Stiles sits up, a grin on his face. “I should go. School tomorrow, dad will be home in a few hours.”

“Okay,” Derek sits up. “Call me tomorrow, I'll drive over and meet you.”

Stiles nods and bites his lip, his hands fisting in the sheets, looking anywhere but Derek.

Derek cups Stiles' face with a hand, thumb brushing against his cheekbone and tips Stiles' face up to meet his eyes. “I'll be there.”

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, I know.” He clambers off the bed and stretches, Derek watches him, his eyes drawn to the sliver of skin that appears when Stiles' tshirt rides up. Stiles' cheeks flush when he realises where Derek is looking and laughs, almost as if he can't believe the effect he has on Derek.

Derek is off the bed and crowding Stiles against the wall. He rests his hand against Stiles' hip, stroking the skin above the waistband of Stiles' jeans. Stiles impatiently tilts his head up, his lips barely touching Derek's before he whines and Derek smiles, pressing his mouth against Stiles' in a forceful kiss. Derek feels Stiles' hands scrambling for grip, wrapping them around Derek's neck as he pulls him closer. They cling to each other a minute longer, before Derek pulls back slightly. “You have to get home, right?” He asks, lips brushing against Stiles'.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Stiles answers, kissing Derek again. “I should do that now.”

“Uh huh,” Derek ducks his head and licks the mark on Stiles' neck. “You probably should.”

Stiles lets out a shaky breath and pushes Derek a little, a small smile on his face when Derek backs up. “Okay. So, I'm going now,” He brushes his hands across Derek's chest. “Definitely going.”

“Stiles,” Derek smirks. “I know what you're doing.”

“Me? I'm doing anything. Not at all, not doing anything at all.”

“Door. Stairs. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles nods, smiling as Derek watches him go. Derek shakes his head and sits back on his bed, listening to the sounds of Stiles pulling his trainers on, saying goodbye to Isaac, the door closing, Stiles starting the Jeep and driving away. He hears Isaac come up the stairs and waits for the knock on the door he knows is coming.

“Can I?” Isaac stands at the threshold and throws a questioning look at Derek.

Derek waves his hand from his position on the bed and Isaac comes in, sits down on the floor and looks up at him.

“Thank you for making dinner.”

“You seemed occupied,” Isaac says with a grin. “So, is this a thing now? You and Stiles?”

“It's becoming a thing.”

“Will this, I mean -”

“You want to know if it will affect the pack.” Derek says.

Isaac nods. “I'm not worried, I'm just curious.”

“Don't apologise, it's good that you want to know these things. Day to day, it won't affect the pack. Stiles isn't a werewolf, so nothing will change.”

“But it will, won't it? I mean. It's not like this is something casual, is it? Everyone knows Stiles has been wanting this forever and you're not actually as subtle as you think you are when it comes to him.”

Derek looks at Isaac, it's almost amusing how far he's come since Derek gave him the bite. He's never as brazen as Erica is, but he's far better at pushing when he wants to, when he senses it's needed. “It's not casual, but it's something Stiles and I have to figure out. Which we will.”

“Okay,” Isaac stands up and makes to leave, hesitating by the door. “For what it's worth, I think you work well together. You already seem calmer, sort of.”

“Isaac?” Derek says.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

–

Derek pulls up next to Stiles' Jeep in the cemetery parking lot and gets out of the Camaro. He sees Stiles still sitting in the Jeep and knocks on the window, stepping back when Stiles turns to look at him. Stiles shoots him a tight smile before opening the door and getting out. He's clutching a bunch of flowers in his hands, twisting tightly, Derek places a hand over Stiles' and squeezes gently. “Hey, breathe.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles nods “Can't give mom destroyed flowers, right?”

Derek shakes his head. “Go on. I'll wait for you here.”

“I won't be long.”

“Take as long as you want,” Derek kisses Stiles quickly. “Take hours, I'll still be here.”

Stiles lets out a tiny smile before turning towards the gates and walking off. Derek watches him go before he leans against the Jeep to wait. He's not sure how much time passes by before Stiles comes back. Derek can tell Stiles has been crying and he's overcome with the need to take him home and hide away with him until Stiles feels better. He knows from bitter experience that it's not that easy. Stiles stumbles towards him and all Derek can do is hold him tightly until Stiles' heart rate starts to calm down.

“She'd be proud of you,” Derek says. “You're becoming a good man.”

“I am?” Stiles chokes out.

“How can you not know that? Stiles, you're the best person I know.”

Stiles doesn't respond to that, just holds on to Derek and sighs. They stand there for a while until Stiles straightens up and leans back a little to look Derek in the eyes. “Thank you, for coming with me.”

“You don't need to thank me, you know that.”

“I know.” Stiles reaches up and puts a hand on Derek's neck, tugs him down and kisses him softly. Derek kisses him back, his arms around Stiles' body, pulling him even closer until he feels Stiles relax. He presses a kiss against Stiles' jaw before nuzzling against his neck.

“You hungry?” Derek asks.

“Yep.”

“Come on, pizza. My treat. Whatever you want.”

Stiles de-tangles himself from Derek and climbs into the Jeep. “Usual place?”

“Yeah,” Derek walks round to the Camaro. “I'll follow you.”

–

They get the pizza to take-out and head back to Stiles' house. Derek sits awkwardly on the sofa and frowns at Stiles when he grins at him.

“Derek, my dad isn't going to suddenly walk in and shoot you. Probably.”

“That's reassuring, Stiles, really.”

Stiles laughs and sits next to him, curls into his side and reaches for the pizza box. “I promise he won't shoot you. Even if he does, you'll heal, right?”

“Because that will be easy to explain to him.”

“Might distract him from the fact you want to nail his only son.”

Derek groans and rubs a hand over his face. “Stiles.”

“Sorry, sorry. Here,” Stiles passes him the pizza box. “Eat.”

After making their way through two pizzas, Stiles pulls at Derek until he's laying down and Stiles rearranges himself so he's half laying on Derek, his head resting on Derek's shoulder.

“Stiles, maybe we shouldn't -”

“Dad won't be home for hours yet, we're fine.” Stiles mumbles into Derek's chest.

“If he shoots me, I'm breaking up with you.”

“No you won't. You love me.”

Derek pauses for a moment, before he runs a hand down Stiles' back. “You might be right.” He can feel Stiles go still for a split second before he relaxes into Derek's body.

Stiles turns his head and plants a kiss on Derek's neck. “Only took you how many years?”

“Shut up Stiles.” Derek mutters, closing his eyes with a content smile on his face.


End file.
